Where Your Name Still Lives

Dear Reader,

If you’ve found this book, then maybe you know what it feels like to hold on to something inside that you won’t quite let go.

These pages are made of quiet thoughts, of moments that felt too big to say aloud. They are filled with love that lingers, questions that echo, and feelings that don’t always have answers.

Some of these words may feel heavy, some might feel soft, and some may feel like nothing at all. That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel here.

This isn’t a story with a clear beginning or end. It’s a collection of moments, of loving someone, of losing parts of yourself, and trying to find your way back.

If you see yourself in these words, you are not alone.

Stay a little while.

- Brooke. S

What is this?

I can't breathe, I can't talk.

I can't even look at you without my heart trying to claw its way out to you.

Oh. I know. This must be what it feels like to be Loving her.

She wants someone who knows her coffee order. Someone who knows her favourite colour, her favourite song, and why she dances in the rain. Someone who knows when she's sad, when she needs a hug.

She wants someone to hug her. Someone who can name 100 things they love about her.

But I can name 200. I know her coffee order. I know her favourite song, her favourite colour. I know why she dances in the rain. I can hug her. I can love her. I do love her. But she can't love me, can she?

I could live a million different lives, love a million different people, kiss a million different lips. But in every life, I'd want you, even after falling in love with someone else. I'd still want you, I'll always want you. Even though you don't want me, and I know you never will. But I'll still wear your favourite colour, I'll still cook your favourite foods, wear your favourite perfume, anything to be with you. Anything to be her.

Am I going crazy, dear? Because you're now the voice in my head, and your lips are always lingering on mine. Am I in love, dear? Because your eyes make me smile, and your hands make my heart ache. Am I okay, dear? Because I've been feeling numb without your love, I've been feeling lonely without you.

Am I going crazy, dear? Or am I in love? Am I okay, dear? Well, with you... I am.

I think more than I want to, mostly about you. How your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, how your skin glows when you smile, how your lips move when you're nervous. How I love you more than anything life could offer, and how you don't. But I love you enough for the both of us, right?

I want love. I want to be held. I want to be kissed. I want you.

It's 12:30 on a Tuesday, and I'm lying on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I should get up. Maybe not. The floor is awfully comfortable, and so is the faint smell of perfume here. It's from that day. The one where we laughed until you fell on the floor. You remember that, right? We laughed some more, and I laid down there beside you. We lied there for hours, hand in hand, not saying a word. You looked over and smiled, and said you loved me. Your lips pressed against mine, and I said it back. Can you believe it? I really thought love meant forever. But maybe it does. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't love.

But damn, it sure felt like it.

Your the best person I know.

Your outstanding, kind, intelligent.

With my eyes I see not a flaw.

But I'm sick of being just a friend.

But you shall never know, because I'll never tell.

Because I know like everything does, my feelings will one day come to an end.

But until that day, don't mind my eyes.

They can help themselves from staring. If you saw yourself I know you'd understand.